


A little Cliche

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:10:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josephine asks Ani about her Horns, and Ani is honest for once in her adult life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little Cliche

Everything creaked. Every board, every step, every _door,_ made a noise. If the ambassador had her way the very first thing anyone would repair in Skyhold would be all the noises it made. Making her way to the Inquisitor’s Quarters however she was beginning to miss the ambient creaks and groans. The newly refurbished stairs were almost silent as she made her way with an armload of requisitions to be signed and filed.

She knocked on the door, four short raps, but there was no answer from inside. Someone had obviously been keeping the fire stoked; the door was warm to the touch though she could feel the damp cold of Skyhold through her leather slippers. The door was unbolted and the Ambassador decided she’d leave the paperwork on the Inquisitor’s desk.

Sitting on the floor in front of the fire was Aniasa Adaar, barely visible beneath a pile of blankets and skins. She turned to the opening door and smiled. “Ambassador, I’m sorry if I’d have known you were coming I would have,” the Qunari paused and stood up, “well I would have looked a little more dignified.”

“Don’t worry Lady Adaar, your secret is safe with me.”

Aniasa was spreading the blankets and furs neatly back on her bed and Josephine tried to find a place on the desk to put her neat pile of papers. The Inquisitors desk was covered, there were books, some opened, some piled, while others seemed to be tossed without thought. Orders and letters we spilling onto the floor and her ink had been left open and dried. Josephine’s eyes followed a splatter of ink from the blotter to a series of crude doodles and a number of colourful communications with Lady Adaar’s former company.

“Are those important?” Adaar asked leaning over her.

Josephine jumped. “Oh, not so important Inquisitor, they can wait if you’re busy.”

Inquisitor Adaar sat at the desk and opened a drawer, into she unceremoniously dumped all the loose papers from her desk inside, shrugging sheepishly at Josephine’s chirp of disapproval.

“Why don’t you tell me what they are and I’ll do my best to sign them?”

Josephine perched on the arm of the Inquisitors chair and began handing the Inquisitor each form, explaining its contents and occasionally the value of her acquiescence. The Inquisitor’s hair was down and Josephine found herself watching the waves of lavender shadows, no longer wondering why Varric called the Inquisitor Violet.

So lost was she in the shades of lavender and silver tumbling over the jagged granite of the Qunari’s broken horns that Josephine didn’t notice she was staring back. Lilac coloured eyes watched from behind yesterday’s eyeliner, rarely bare lips curled into a soft smile.

“You seem lost, Ambassador,” a hint of teasing coloured her voice.

“It’s not often I get to see you from this angle, your worship.”

“Call me Ani, please.”

Josephine blushed. “I was wondering, if you don’t mind talking about it, why did you cut your horns?”

Ani drew in her breath through her teeth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s,” the Qunari seemed to fold in on herself, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “With the Mercs it’s easier. Most of them were Qunari too. They didn’t ask. I was a mage, they just assume, or if they’re smart enough they think I did it myself.”

“But, you’ve never been a Saarebas, correct?”

“No,” she smiled at the Ambassador. “I’m too pretty, not enough scars.”

“And you were born free so no reason to cut them off?”

Ani smiled at Josephine, perched on the arm of the chair like she was, the qunari found herself looking up at her, and for once in her life she chose not to spin an elaborate story.

“I couldn’t say how I was born. For all I know my parents could be alive still, fighting Vints in Seheron. Or someone’s pet in Minrathous, Qarnius, I don’t know which is worse. I like to think they died when the Magister took me, it’s more comforting to think there is no one out there missing the person they thought I’d be.”

Josephine didn’t speak but a small soft arm snaked around the Inquisitor pulling her just a little closer.

“I don’t remember any of it. I know I was sold at a slave auction in Qarnius and I know I wasn’t cheap. The magister who bought me owned an apothecary. He boasted of very rare stocks. When I was very small I was a pet, there was a large pillow in the corner of the shop for me to sleep on, I was fed well, treated kindly.

“He never spoke to me though, always over me, about me. I was a possession, coveted and valued but I was a thing. He harvested my horns, a little at a time. They have all kinds of silly uses for the powders, strength, stamina, virility, it goes on, and gets worse. I was very small the first time; I thought I was being punished.

“I cried for a week afterwards and when the customers stopped coming in to see me I _was_ punished. Sometimes he would harvest only an inch from one side, then others much larger pieces. I was young, my horns were still growing. Sometimes he would leave me alone long enough that they would grow back into points but there was always someone willing to pay the price.

“Sometimes he carved charms, and pendants, small rings, and _other_ rings. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn’t. There was always someone though.”

Unable to contain herself Josephine asked. “How did you escape them?”

“Heh, it’s embarrassing really.” Ani blushed. “I mean it’s really cliché. I was a late bloomer, or maybe I just didn’t know well enough to try anything. I was 13 when my magic manifested itself. My horns had slowed soon to stop growing and there wasn’t much left, I was begging him to stop, to sell me to someone else and I remember he’d gotten part way through and hit this _nerve_ inside and I screamed and he was frozen.”

“Frozen?”

“Solid. And it took me about a half hour to realize I could go, that he wouldn’t live out the thaw and I could just go. Shokrakar found me, who knows how long after, I couldn’t read, I barely spoke. She took me in trained me. She was tough and I hated her a lot of the time, but I was a person. I had a say in what I did. I was free to leave whenever I wanted. Anything was better than being someone’s belonging.”

When Ani glanced back up at Josephine tears were brimming in her eyes. The Ambassador ran a tentative hand through the Qunari’s loose hair and then glanced at her for approval before running them over her broken horns. Ani ducked her head. After recounting her youth the tender touch on her horns brought about too many memories she’d spent a great deal of time repressing.

“I,” Josephine struggled to find the right word. “I am sorry that happened to you.”

“Ambassador,” She began.

“If I am to call you Ani then you should call me Josie.”

Ani smiled. “Josie, if anyone asks you though? You tell them it was in a fight with a giant, ok?”

Josie laughed. “Of course, Ani.”

 

Everything creaked.Every board, every step, every _door,_ made a noise.If the ambassador had her way the very first thing anyone would repair in Skyhold would be all the noises it made.Making her way to the Inquisitor’s Quarters however she was beginning to miss the ambient creaks and groans.The newly refurbished stairs were almost silent as she made her way with an armload of requisitions to be signed and filed.

She knocked on the door, four short raps, but there was no answer from inside.Someone had obviously been keeping the fire stoked; the door was warm to the touch though she could feel the damp cold of Skyhold through her leather slippers. The door was unbolted and the Ambassador decided she’d leave the paperwork on the Inquisitor’s desk.

Sitting on the floor in front of the fire was Aniasa Adaar, barely visible beneath a pile of blankets and skins.She turned to the opening door and smiled.“Ambassador, I’m sorry if I’d have known you were coming I would have,” the Qunari paused and stood up, “well I would have looked a little more dignified.”

“Don’t worry Lady Adaar, your secret is safe with me.”

Aniasa was spreading the blankets and furs neatly back on her bed and Josephine tried to find a place on the desk to put her neat pile of papers.The Inquisitors desk was covered, there were books, some opened, some piled, while others seemed to be tossed without thought.Orders and letters we spilling onto the floor and her ink had been left open and dried.Josephine’s eyes followed a splatter of ink from the blotter to a series of crude doodles and a number of colourful communications with Lady Adaar’s former company.

“Are those important?”Adaar asked leaning over her.

Josephine jumped.“Oh, not so important Inquisitor, they can wait if you’re busy.”

Inquisitor Adaar sat at the desk and opened a drawer, into she unceremoniously dumped all the loose papers from her desk inside, shrugging sheepishly at Josephine’s chirp of disapproval.

“Why don’t you tell me what they are and I’ll do my best to sign them?”

Josephine perched on the arm of the Inquisitors chair and began handing the Inquisitor each form, explaining its contents and occasionally the value of her acquiescence.The Inquisitor’s hair was down and Josephine found herself watching the waves of lavender shadows, no longer wondering why Varric called the Inquisitor Violet.

So lost was she in the shades of lavender and silver tumbling over the jagged granite of the Qunari’s broken horns that Josephine didn’t notice she was staring back.Lilac coloured eyes watched from behind yesterday’s eyeliner, rarely bare lips curled into a soft smile.

“You seem lost, Ambassador,” a hint of teasing coloured her voice.

“It’s not often I get to see you from this angle, your worship.”

“Call me Ani, please.”

Josephine blushed. “I was wondering, if you don’t mind talking about it, why did you cut your horns?”

Ani drew in her breath through her teeth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s,” the Qunari seemed to fold in on herself, she drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around her knees.“With the Mercs it’s easier. Most of them were Qunari too.They didn’t ask.I was a mage, they just assume, or if they’re smart enough they think I did it myself.”

“But, you’ve never been a Saarebas, correct?”

“No,” she smiled at the Ambassador.“I’m too pretty, not enough scars.”

“And you were born free so no reason to cut them off?”

Ani smiled at Josephine, perched on the arm of the chair like she was, the qunari found herself looking up at her, and for once in her life she chose not to spin an elaborate story.

“I couldn’t say how I was born.For all I know my parents could be alive still, fighting Vints in Seheron. Or someone’s pet in Minrathous, Qarnius, I don’t know which is worse.I like to think they died when the Magister took me, it’s more comforting to think there is no one out there missing the person they thought I’d be.”

Josephine didn’t speak but a small soft arm snaked around the Inquisitor pulling her just a little closer.

“I don’t remember any of it.I know I was sold at a slave auction in Qarnius and I know I wasn’t cheap.The magister who bought me owned an apothecary.He boasted of very rare stocks.When I was very small I was a pet, there was a large pillow in the corner of the shop for me to sleep on, I was fed well, treated kindly.

“He never spoke to me though, always over me, about me.I was a possession, coveted and valued but I was a thing.He harvested my horns, a little at a time.They have all kinds of silly uses for the powders, strength, stamina, virility, it goes on, and gets worse.I was very small the first time; I thought I was being punished.

“I cried for a week afterwards and when the customers stopped coming in to see me I _was_ punished.Sometimes he would harvest only an inch from one side, then others much larger pieces.I was young, my horns were still growing.Sometimes he would leave me alone long enough that they would grow back into points but there was always someone willing to pay the price.

“Sometimes he carved charms, and pendants, small rings, and _other_ rings.Maybe it worked, maybe it didn’t.There was always someone though.”

Unable to contain herself Josephine asked.“How did you escape them?”

“Heh, it’s embarrassing really.” Ani blushed.“I mean it’s really cliché.I was a late bloomer, or maybe I just didn’t know well enough to try anything.I was 17 when my magic manifested itself.My horns had stopped growing and there wasn’t much left, I was begging him to stop, to sell me to someone else and I remember he’d gotten part way through and hit this _nerve_ inside and I screamed and he was frozen.”

“Frozen?”

“Solid.And it took me about a half hour to realize I could go, that he wouldn’t live out the thaw and I could just go. Shokrakar found me, who knows how long after, I couldn’t read, I barely spoke. She took me in trained me.She was tough and I hated her a lot of the time, but I was a person.I had a say in what I did.I was free to leave whenever I wanted. Anything was better than being someone’s belonging.”

When Ani glanced back up at Josephine tears were brimming in her eyes.The Ambassador ran a tentative hand through the Qunari’s loose hair and then glanced at her for approval before running them over her broken horns.Ani ducked her head.After recounting her youth the tender touch on her horns brought about too many memories she’d spent a great deal of time repressing.

“I,” Josephine struggled to find the right word.“I am sorry that happened to you.”

“Ambassador,” She began.

“If I am to call you Ani then you should call me Josie.”

Ani smiled.“Josie, if anyone asks you though?You tell them it was in a fight with a giant, ok?”

Josie laughed.“Of course, Ani.”

 


End file.
